The View From March
This has been a tough column to write in the last few months. My mission with this column is to make you laugh. Full stop. I’m not trying to make you laugh, but also make you think. If you’re not already doing that then whatever I write is not going to help you. There have been so many unfunny things in our faces lately that it’s a lot harder to be funny, but I’m going to give it my best shot, so we can all have a nice brain break.
George and I were out for a lovely evening stroll last night. It was warm and breezy and you could see Venus in the Western sky. The spring peepers were peeping away, and usually when I hear the first spring peepers, I am positively euphoric, but, um, it’s February. What...the...hell?!
I know I should be appreciating the lovely weather, but it is freaking me out. I feel discombobulated, like when you think there’s another step on the stairs and there isn’t. Didn’t we miss something---like, winter, maybe? People around me seem thrilled with this weather, but this image just keeps popping in my head--It is summer and I climb into my van and it’s so hot that I am immediately incinerated and there’s nothing left but my bony skeleton--my bony fingers still clutching the steering wheel. If it is 65 degrees in February, by the transitive property, it will be 150 degrees in July.
I find myself pondering a move north, because if it’s going to keep getting hotter, then we’re probably all going to have to do that eventually. I was talking to my favorite scientist, Bill, and he said he wrote a paper back in the eighties about how global warming would cause the grain belt to shift north to find the right growing climate. Eventually our food may be grown in Siberia. I’m very committed to eating locally grown food whenever I can, so I guess I have to move to Siberia now.
This isn’t the first time I’ve considered moving north. My friend Ellen has a terrible phobia of bees, and when the African killer bees started making their way into the Southern states she was very alarmed. I mean, she’s terrified of regular bees, so swarming killer bees are literally her worst nightmare. I tried to reassure her that the bees were only moving north at a rate of about 500 miles every few years, so in theory, if she moved 500 miles north every few years, she could stay ahead of them. I offered to go with her, because I would miss her too much if she were that far away.
Things have changed so dramatically from those innocent times when all we worried about were killer bee attacks. Now we’re worried that there won’t even be ANY bees! Even Ellen has given her approval to my plan to turn my backyard into a bee habitat. She resisted at first, but I pointed out that no bees means no fruit, and Ellen lives on a diet of greens and blackberries, much like Peter Rabbit. She would not survive without those blackberries. I’d like to encourage all of you to plant a few bee friendly plants too.
Enjoy this lovely weather!
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